


A Perfect Ten

by merelypassingtime



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelypassingtime/pseuds/merelypassingtime
Summary: Sherlock decides it is time for John to move back to Baker Street. Now, he just has to convince John.





	A Perfect Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and love to my amazing beta no-reason-at-all for her help. :)

“Well, it is getting late,” John said. He set aside the medical journal he’d been reading and pushed up from his chair with a little grunt of effort. 

Sherlock looked up from where he and Watson were coloring in her “World’s Deadliest Viruses” coloring book, already opening his mouth to deny the statement. The words stopped dead in his throat, choked off by the sight of John.

He stood, absently rubbing at his shoulder as if already anticipating the damp cold outside. The flickering light from the fire behind him softened his trim lines even more than the thick jumper he wore. Softer still was the expression on his face as he looked back at the two of them. For a moment Sherlock’s eyes locked with his and something loosened in Sherlock’s chest even as it froze his movement. A thought appeared in his head, crystalline and incontrovertible: John and Rosie must never leave him again.

He examined the idea carefully, investigating every facet for flaws and finding none. It was an undeniable conclusion, and possibly the truest one Sherlock had ever reached.

When he opened his eyes, ready to share his new knowledge with John, he found the room dark and long empty. A quick check of the clock told him that he had been lost in thought for several hours.

He was tempted to text John right away, demanding that he return, but he knew Rosie would be asleep and that John had work in the morning and neither would thank him for the disturbance. Nor would it put John in the right mood to hear Sherlock out on the subject of coming back home.

No, Sherlock needed to have a set of solid, unarguable reasons to present to him. 

It would have to be perfect.

By the next week he had prepared a ten binder report, encompassing such things as travel times, crime rates, the availability of quality daycare, geological stability, and ready access to Mrs Hudson’s baking. Sherlock choose a dark blue for the binders that was nearly the same color as John's eyes, and printed out a 'Reasons To Move Back To Baker Street' label for the spine of each one. 

It wasn’t perfect, though. He couldn’t just hand the binders over to John causally and say, “Here. Text me if you have any questions or when you need help carrying boxes.” It was too impersonal and would be too easy for John to shrug off in the bustle of everyday life with a toddler.

Besides, what if he lost one or more of them in amongst all the paraphernalia and chaos Rosie generated so effortlessly? 

So the binders stayed atop Sherlock's nightstand, unread and gathering dust.

Okay, Sherlock told himself. It is just too long and complicated. 

He condensed it down to the most salient points, keeping it simple so as not to overwhelm John's straightforward mind. He ended up with a bullet-pointed list of the ten most logical reasons John and Rosie should come back to live at 221b. He rehearsed and revised the list endlessly, preparing several well-researched and cited rebuttals to the objections John was sure to raise. All he needed was the perfect time to approach John.

But the right time never appeared. They were always in the middle of a new case, or in a bad mood, or surrounded by people, or tired. So, Sherlock waited, and everyday when John and Rosie went back to the house in the suburbs it felt like they took a vital part of himself with them.

Finally, one evening as John was coaxing a sleeping Rosie into her coat in preparation for the trek back to the suburbs, Sherlock broke. 

He no longer cared if the timing was wrong. It was time and past time to put an end to all this leaving. He blocked the door, the list already pulled up in his mind.

To his surprise what came out of his mouth was not his first point. Instead he heard himself say, desperation too clear and raw in his voice, “Please John, just stay here with me. I love you.”

Silence hung heavy in the air while Rosie dozed blissfully oblivious in her dad's arms and John stared blankly at him. Seconds stretched into a minute and Sherlock could feel that heaviness settling in his chest.

Then, John blinked rapidly a few times and broke into a bright smile. “Of course I'll stay, you git. I love you, too,” he replied.

Sherlock released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and grinned back tentatively.

He was both relieved and a bit chagrined that in the end it had only taken ten perfect words.


End file.
